


The Impossibility of Living

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blowjobs, Episode: s04e14 Sex and Violence, Incest, John Winchester is a shit father, M/M, Wincest - Freeform, sibling sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 00:29:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam had managed to close his mouth in time. Miraculously, he’d closed his mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is unbeta'd. I apologize for any typos and the like. It's also my first wincest fic and my first SPN fic. It's my first fic this year. Might be a little rusty. So, many apologies. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine (because if it was...things would be very different). Don't sue me; I'm broke (really, really broke...living below poverty level broke.)
> 
> Hope you like...

The siren was taunting him and Dean was whispering in his ear about how much Sam was lying to him, keeping secrets, shutting Dean out. The siren, he knows, wants them both enthralled and at each other’s throats. Lies and truth intermingled until no one could tell the difference and something between them was irreparably broken. But…somehow…

Sam had managed to close his mouth in time. Miraculously, he’d closed his mouth and none of the saliva or venom or whatever it was got in. He blinked. In the moment of shock, he got up under Dean’s guard, pulled the knife away and nicked his brother’s skin in the processes. He sent up a silent prayer to whomever might be listening (Dear Christ, don’t let it be Cas. Don’t let him show up) that it was enough blood. Trying to suppress a tremor, he realized that slicing into the siren was actually much easier than he thought it would be. The man (creature) seemed too shocked to respond much.

The moment was over in a half-dozen heartbeats.

Dean had stumbled back to lean against the wall, blinking furiously and shaking his head. “Dude…Nice?” When his brain cleared a little, Dean stared at the body of the Siren, which lay in an ever-increasing pool of its own blood.

“Dean…” Sam knew he sounded utterly wrecked, but he couldn’t seem to help it.

Dean’s gaze jerked up to his. “Sam?”

“Dean, you…You’re right. I have been…If I…This is my fault. If I hadn’t been lying to you, if we…this is my fault. You should just…” He waved awkwardly at the door. “I’ll take care of this.”

Dean was scowling now. “What are you talking about, Sam, you emo-freak? What’s your fault?”

Sam raised incredulous eyebrows at him and gestured to the siren on the floor. It needed to be cleaned it up soon. Or Sam supposed he could just leave it there and run like he—Run. Fast. And far. Right now, though… Sam took a deep breath. “You are completely right. I shouldn’t be lying to you. It’s my fault you were vulnerable, Dean. If…well, you’d…I just…I’m done. I’m just done. I can’t do it anymore.” He could hear the defeat in his own voice, and wasn’t that odd?

Dean’s eyes widened and flicked around the room. “Sammy, you can’t—”

“Sit.” Dean frowned at the command, confused. “Go. Sit on the bed. You look like you’re going to collapse and I have a…confession to make, because I’m so fucking done lying about this and pretending that I’m not. You’re probably going to hate me, but you deserve more than what I’ve been giving you. I’ll just have to figure out some way to deal with it if you… At least it won’t leave you vulnerable anymore.”

The terror that had been lurking in Dean’s eyes since Sam had started his little speech grew more prominent, but he did as he was bid and went to sit on the edge of the bed. Sam leaned against the table and yanked at his hair.

“Sam, dude. You’re freaking me out, man.”

“I’m sorry…Dean…Just…Fuck.” Sam ran his hands into his hair and yanked again, using his arms to shield his face. “I have been lying to you, Dean. I didn’t…I didn’t know how to handle it if you hated me and so I didn’t tell you. I know how much you hate Ruby and I know how much you hate my…psychic abilities. But…” He could almost feel Dean stiffen.

“Sam, if this has something to do with that demon-bitch—“

“Do you remember what it felt like when I died?”

Dean’s face went pale and pinched; his mouth snapped shut for a moment. “Yeah. It’s really fucking unlikely that I’d forget that, Sam. That was…it was worse than the Pit. But what—”

Sam blinked and let his hands drop so he could stare at his brother. “What?”

Dean looked away. “It was…the Pit was torture, until it wasn’t anymore, but...It was…nearly unimaginably horrible. But I knew you were here. You were alive and kicking up here. Maybe you were trying to break the demon deal or maybe you’d gone back to Stanford or met a girl or whatever, but you were alive. And that was…what I tried to hold onto, you know? I did it for you in the first place, so…But the 16 hours that you were dead? There was…just nothing. I couldn’t…”

Sam smiled sadly. “Dean…It was less than a full day. Imagine that for four months.”

Dean looked back sharply at Sam and opened his mouth to speak. Sam shook his head. He was full of anxious energy, like his nerve endings were being jangled and he couldn’t breathe. He started to pace, trying to burn off some of the excess. “No. You don’t get to tell me it’s not the same. That I don’t love you as much as you love me. That I don’t need you. Because I do, even if I... Maybe I should have been used to it after the six months I spent after the Tuesday loop, but than I had a purpose. I hunted for the trickster. I found him and I made him fix it. I knew that I was going to make him fix it. But, you were in hell and I didn’t know where to look, who to go to that could help me. I couldn’t…I couldn’t save you and it tore a hole in my gut. God, I’m going to sound like a cliché, but it was like…you’d taken pieces of me with you into Hell and I couldn’t function properly anymore. Like you took my lungs and maybe my blood, because I was cold and I could barely breath and I _just didn’t give a fuck_. I told you that I tried to sell my soul to the crossroads demon?” Dean nodded, looking completely stunned. “Yeah, well…I tried five crossroads demons. None of them would touch me, so I killed them all. Dean…I told you Ruby saved my life? I meant it literally too. Not just that she saved me from my Kamikaze plan to kill Lilith and myself. I…When she came back the first time, she found me with a gun in my mouth. I was literally seconds away from pulling the trigger, Dean.”

Dean choked. “Sammy, no! You—“

“Yes. Dean, I couldn’t…She convinced me eventually, that not only would it piss you off,” Sam’s smile was thin and just this side of bitter. “But it would have made everything a waste. That wasn’t something I could do to you. Make you have gone to Hell for nothing. So I figured I’d kill Lilith, when I killed myself. At least, that would mean your sacrifice had been to stop the Apocalypse. Something good, not just saving someone who doesn’t deserve it. I didn’t care how I had to do it. I…I was going to do whatever it took, because it wouldn’t matter what it did to me. I was going to be collateral damage anyway. So when Ruby said that she knew a way to make me stronger…strong enough to take out Lilith, I said yes. I didn’t care what it was, but…”

When Sam seemed disinclined to continue speaking, Dean stood and came forward to lay a hand on his brother’s arm, stopping him from pacing. “Sam. Whatever it is, we’ll fix it. I’ll help you. You know I will. But you gotta tell me.”

Sam stared down at the hand on his arm blankly for a moment, before squeezing his eyes shut. “Dean…how did I get these powers in the first place? And no, it’s not a rhetorical question.”

Dean frowned. “Azazel fed you hi… _Jesus Christ_ , Sam!”

The younger man seemed to curl in on himself and flinched, as if expecting a blow. Dean grabbed his shoulders and spun him, shoving him down to sit on the bed. He crouched and looked up into Sam’s face. “Sam... Sammy, you’ve been…what? Drinking demon blood?”

Sam nodded, still not opening his eyes. “Yeah…it’s…God, it’s like…I can actually _feel_ the power increase.” He opened his eyes, but looked away, focusing on the Siren’s corpse. It seemed to steel his resolve. “It’s…it was basically blood-play. When we’d fuck, Ruby would cut her arm or somewhere and I’d lick the blood away. But I stopped. After you came back, I knew you’d hate it. You hate my powers. I know that. But…Dean, it’s…I’m…” He swallowed thickly. “I’m an addict. I can’t…I have no impulse control when it comes to this. I _need it_. But I don’t want to. I know I shouldn’t, but…I get that you hate this thing inside me. The taint… the corruption. You probably hate me as well and you have every right. It's...well, no. It's not okay, but I can't help it. But I also can't do this alone. I've tried. But, Dean, I can't...I can't stop myself and it needs to stop. It's the biggest rush, the highest high you could possibly imagine, but I can't be dependent on it. It's dangerous for you. If I rely on it and I miss my fix, it could put you in danger. I'm not asking for anything more than a ride to Bobby's. Lock me in the panic room That way I won't be tempted. I can’t be tempted. Unless...unless you don't want me in the impala...Don't want me hunting with you any more. I'd..." Sam choked on the words, but managed to push them out. "I'd understand."

"Christ, Sammy, stop being so damned understanding. I don't hate you. Dude, I don't think I am physically capable of hating you. Not hardwired like that. Yeah, it's pretty fucking shitty what you've been doing, but...I think I...give me some time and I think I can get over it. And, man...Dr Phil says that the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem."

Sam's brain seemed unable to process Dean's...well it wasn't exactly forgiveness, but it seemed like it would be. So he latched onto the one part he could process. "You watch Dr. Phil? Dude, that's even worse than Oprah."

Dean flushed and stood. "Shut it, Demon Boy."

Sam went pale and gave a jerky nod. "Right. Sorry."

Dean sighed. "No, I didn't...look, man, let's just..." He gestured toward the dead Siren. "Let's take care of this and head up to Bobby's. But, dude... Sam, you know that the passenger's seat is always yours, man. No matter what happens. I sold my soul for you, little brother. You're a part of me, Sam, and I...I'm not going to walk away from that. Ever. "

Sam swallowed painfully, aware that he was crying, but not paying it any attention. His voice when he spoke was thin and whispery. "Thank you."

Dean's mouth stretched into a weak grin. "Aw! C'mon, man. Turn off the waterworks! Freaks me out when you cry. Like when chicks cry."

Sam offered a watery laugh and, standing, pulled Dean into a fierce hug.

Dean returned it just as tightly, even if he muttered, "Why are we hugging? No one's dying...right?" He stiffened and pulled back abruptly. "Right? Sam? This demon blood shit isn't going to kill you, is it? You're okay, right?"

Sam frowned. "Yeah. As far as I know, I'm perfectly fine. I've had demon blood in my system since I was six months old, Dean. If it hasn't killed me yet, I doubt it's gonna."

Dean nodded. "Good." He said and pulled Sam back into his arms for a moment.

When he stepped back, his posture was more relaxed than Sam had seen it since...the incident with the Dracula shapeshifter. Sam would have said even earlier than that, but the blond that he’d hooked up with at the end of that case had managed to put a relaxed, fucked out expression on his face and had taken a lot of the tension out of his shoulders. Sam used hated Dean's hookups, but he'd been insanely grateful to that woman.

“Dean, if you…Close your eyes for a minute, yeah?” Sam scrubbed at his face and turned back to the siren’s corpse.

Dean narrowed his eyes instead. “Why?”

“Because you hate this and I don’t want to shove it down your throat, but we need to get rid of this thing and I need to burn off some of the powers that Ruby’s blood gave me.”

Dean shook his head. “Nope. No more secrets. Show me what you’ve got, Demon Boy.”

Sam jerked, like he’d been slapped, but nodded stiffly. If this is what it took…Holding up a hand, he willed open a gate to hell, just like he did every time he exercised a demon. The body was swallowed by the black, clinging smoke that cracked like fire and flickered yellow and orange in the shadows cast by the streetlamp outside. Dean’s eyes were wide, but Sam couldn’t tell what the emotion behind them was. Horror? Disgust? Shock?

“Fuck, Sam. What did you just…?” Dean’s voice was thin and strained.

Sam exhaled harshly. “I opened a pathway to Hell and sent his body back where it belonged. The blood too.”

Dean shook himself. “Right. Okay. Sure you did. Let’s just…let’s go see Bobby, shall we?”

They packed quickly and Sam followed meekly when Dean went to the door. As he laid a hand on the doorknob, someone on the other side knocked loudly. “Dean? Sam?” Bobby’s voice was gruff with worry.

Dean’s half-grin was relieved. “Bobby,” He said and opened the door.

The old man entered, shotgun in hand, tense and ready to fight. Sam offered him a weak smile that did nothing to reassure him, given that the tear tracks were still completely visible on Sam’s face and his neck wound was still bleeding sluggishly when he turned his head the wrong way.

Bobby blinked. “What happened to you boys? Where’s the siren?”

Dean grinned, real this time. “I got infected. Sammy here ganked it. Used my blood on the blade. Er…we took care of the body, so it’s a job well done.”

Bobby narrowed his eyes and looked back at Sam. Dean turned to follow his gaze and realized for the first time that Sam was injured. “Damn it, Sam. Why didn’t you tell me I cut you? Where’s the first aid kit?”

Sam shook his head, causing another trickle of blood to ooze out. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” He avoided Bobby’s confused and concerned gaze. “Can we just go?”

Bobby refused to let it go. “What happened? Dean? You cut Sam’s neck? Why?”

Dean reddened slightly. “I…um…I got infected by the siren and well…I don’t have any female relatives, yeah? I barely have anyone at all, except you and Sam and Ellen and Jo, so…the siren, he tried to get me to kill Sam.”

Bobby blinked. Paused. Blinked again. “He?”

“Er…yes?”

Bobby was staring at him and Sam looked up too, finally realizing that yeah, Dean’s siren was a man. Not a woman. And he’d said… _Oh_ …um…

“Dean?” Dean’s gaze jerked to Sam. “Um…”

“We’re not talking about this. Now…or really ever. Sit. I’m going to bandage your neck and then we’re going to follow Bobby back to his place and detox you in the basement. Okay? Good.”

Sam clamped his mouth shut, not willing to push when he really didn’t think he’d be getting anything at all from Dean at this point, never mind what seemed to amount to forgiveness and acceptance.

The statement gave Bobby something else to focus on. “Detox? Sam? What’d you get infected with? Siren’s venom would be gone by now, obviously. Dean—“

“Bobby, I’m not infected. I’m addicted to demon blood.”

Bobby frozen. Several minutes passed, the only sound the rustle of Dean sorting through their stuff for first aid supplies. He’d found what he needed and was cleaning Sam’s neck, when Bobby finally managed to speak. “You stupid sonva' bitch. Demon blood? That why you were strong enough to kill Alastair?”

He went to nod, but Dean was gripping his jaw tightly. “Yeah.”

Bobby nodded, thoughtfully. “Ruby?”

“Yeah.”

“I knew that girl was no good. Sam, you realize how dangerous—“

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. I started…well, before. It didn’t matter than. But…I can’t be a liability. This…addiction is going to put Dean in danger and I refuse to do that.”

Bobby blinked. “You telling me, boy, that you started drinking demon blood to cope with your grief at not saving your brother? Of all the stupid, idjit—“

“No. I’m telling you that I started drinking demon blood to increase my psychic ability so that when I committed suicide, I could take Lilith out with me. And now that Dean’s back, the addiction is dangerous to him.”

Bobby stared at him. He seemed to be having a lot of difficulty getting his eyes to work properly; his blinking was slow and uneven. “Commit…Jesus Christ, Sam! You should have come to me, if you were…or Jo or Ellen. We’d’ve tried to help…”

Sam glared icily. His voice when he spoke was equally cold and sharp. “What? Could you have brought my brother back? Could you have turned back time and made me better? Faster? So I didn’t die in the first place and none of this would have happened? Could you have broken Dean’s deal, brought him back and sent me to hell instead where I belong? No, Bobby. There was nothing you or Ellen or anyone could have done.”

Dean had frozen while Sam spoke. Now, his nostrils flared and he stared fixedly at the wound he was dressing. “Don’t you ever fucking say that. Don’t you dare ever say something like that, ever again. You fucking understand me?”

Sam flinched and glanced at him. “What?”

“I don’t care what you think you’ve done. What you think you are. You. Do not. Belong. In Hell. Sam.” Sam stopped breathing. “I’ve been there. I remember it vividly and there is no place there for you. Ever.”

Dean clamped his mouth shut and refused to speak again until they were well outside the city. Bobby just shook his head and went back to his pickup to lead the way.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam didn’t mind the silence of the car, oppressive though it was. He was still trying to keep hold of his sanity. He was somehow here, his secrets (all but one) told and Dean’s forgiveness on the table. Dean didn’t believe he belonged in Hell. But he knew… He was evil, he _knew_ this, and he’d thought Dean understood it too. He had blood from one of the fucking _Dukes of Hell_ running through his veins. He was probably the Anti-Christ and he was almost single-handedly responsible for the approaching apocalypse. He was the reason Dean spent _forty years_ in hell!

 

“Dean…”

 

“Sam.”

 

“No, seriously, Dean…I thought you understood that I’m…that I deserve to go to hell. You’re seriously messing with my head, here. Dean, I’m the fucking Anti-Christ!”

 

Dean sighed. “No, you aren’t. Sammy, Cas said…” Sam flinched. “Man, lighten up. The dude’s an angel. He’s going to know about this shit. He said that we’ve got free will. So guess what? You don’t want to be the Anti-Christ? Then don’t fucking be the Anti-Christ. What’s your problem with Castiel, anyway?” He was obviously trying to change the subject.

 

Sam sighed and turned to look out the window. “Besides the fact that he thinks that I’m going to end the world, that I’m going to _hurt you_ , and that I can’t even be allowed to think on my own? He… He makes me feel helpless…and useless.”

 

Dean turned his eyes from the road to gape at Sam for a moment, before forcing himself to look forward again. “He _what_?”

 

Sam could almost here the ‘chic-flick moment, dude’ echoing in the background.

 

“You said it yourself. He’s a fucking angel! He ‘gripped you tight and pulled you from perdition,’ though I’m guessing you wished he’d phrased that differently. What could I possibly do to help you with _anything at all_ , what possible use could I be, when you’ve basically got an angel on your shoulder. A hot angel…in a trench coat. Although, until today, I’d’ve thought you’d have gone more for Anna than for Castiel. Maybe not though.”

 

Dean glared for a moment, before realizing that Sam was deliberately trying to distract him. “First of all, shut the fuck up. I like women just fine. Doesn’t mean I can’t like dudes too. And second—“

 

“You’re bisexual? I knew you were too butch to be totally straight.” Sam could not believe he’d just said that. He sounded like Dean…which, okay, that might explain a lot. Repression, denial, deflecting…yep, all things Dean was ace at.

 

“Fuck off, you little shit. I am who I am and you can go to—“ Dean froze. His whole body seemed to seize up for a moment. He exhaled slowly and continued, ignoring his slip. “No. You don’t get to distract me. Sam, you’re my brother. You think that the only reason I keep you around is to help me hunt?”

 

Sam looked back out the window, his tone listless and resigned. “Isn’t it?”

 

Dean went pale. “Sam. I sold my soul to _Hell_ for you. You think I did that because you’re a good hunting partner?”

 

Sam snorted. “No. I think you did that because you have a pathological need to follow Dad’s orders.” Dean blinked, slowly, as though he couldn’t figure out how to compute Sam’s statement. “But it’s the reason you came to get me from Stanford in the first place. You didn’t want to hunt alone. You said it yourself. It’s easier with two. I’ve always known that. You didn’t contact me once, not once, while I was at school, but as soon as you want a hunting partner, you’re picking me up. I never called you because Dad told to me to get out and stay gone. You never said anything. I got that you agreed with him. It was fine. You two didn’t want to have anything to do with me because I was weak. Because I didn’t think I wanted to be a hunter. I thought I wanted normal. It was fine. I understood that. You needed help to find Dad; you didn’t want to do it alone. I was someone who you knew how to work with. Dean, I’ve always known exactly what I’m worth in our family and it’s not a whole fucking lot. And that’s _fine_ , but don’t pretend that you needed me for anything other than hunting. Or that now you need me for anything. I’m detoxing for you, in case you still want my help, but don’t ever pretend that you ever needed me for anything beyond that. Don’t ever pretend that since you came back, you ever needed me at all. Please, just…don’t.”

 

Dean remained silent for a full mile, before he jerked the car off the road onto a shoulder. The night was dark, but the moon was almost full and high above the horizon. He got out of the car and slammed the door. He leaned back against the car. Dean never slammed the Impala’s doors. Frowning, Sam got out and came around to stare at him. He’d never seen Dean look so…hollow before.  “Dean…?”

 

“Sam, I told you what it was like, when you were dead. I told you that it was worse than _hell_ and you…”

 

Sam frowned. “Yeah, well. I suppose that makes a twisted kind of sense. By going to hell, you fulfill the orders Dad gave you to protect me. When I was dead, it meant you failed.”

 

“ _Jesus fucking Christ_ , Sam!” Dean’s eyes were glassy like he was going to cry; he looked hollowed out, gutted, which wasn’t right. Sam didn’t understand what was going on, so he stayed quiet. “How is it that you’re supposed to be the smart one in this family and somehow you are the stupidest fucking idiot alive? Huh?”

 

Sam opened his mouth. Nothing came out, so he closed it.

 

“ _Fuck._ I didn’t sell my soul because Dad told me to protect you, you fuckwit. I sold my soul because I literally _couldn’t live_ _without you_. I never called you at Stanford, never showed up like I wanted to, because you said you wanted normal. Our family is so far off the map of normal that we can’t even see it anymore. I thought it was what you wanted. And I managed to stay away for three and a half years. I couldn’t do it anymore. If Dad hadn’t gone missing, I would’ve found a different excuse to come see you. Sammy, if we laid down the guns right this minute and never hunted another day in our lives, I’d still want you here with me. You’re my little brother. You’re the most important person in the entire world to me, Sam. Cas can fuck right off. I don’t care if he’s twice the hunter you are, which he wouldn’t be, by the way. I don’t care if you _are_ the Anti-Christ…okay, maybe I’d care a little, but still. It wouldn’t change that. I haven’t told you in years, but I… We’re Winchesters, damn it! We don’t talk about shit like this and I thought you knew I loved you. I always have and I always will. Practically everything I do is for you. You were _always_ the most important person to me _and_ to Dad. You two butted heads, yeah, but you should have seen him after you left... He wanted to take back what he’d said. He got so drunk that night that he actually told me that he was so fucking proud of you that he could barely stand it, but that if you wanted normal, then we’d give you normal. Which meant nothing to do with us. And look what my weakness did. I couldn’t stay away, like I should have, and I got you back into this life you never wanted and Jess is dead and _you fucking died_ , Sam!”

 

Dean actually did start crying now, though he hadn’t seemed to notice. He was staring hole into the ground at his feet and his fists were clenched so tight that the nails had broken the skin.

 

Sam was gaping at him. “Christ, Dean. You…I…fuck.” Sam sat down on the dirt, hard, before he fell. “Dean, you are not responsible for Jess. If you hadn’t gotten me out of there, I’d have either died or been taken by Azazel. It’s not your fault I died either. If I’d been faster…if I’d just killed the bastard when I had the chance…But I’m…I’m glad that you brought me back. I’m…normal was nice. It was fun and safe. But…it never felt real. I was always half a pace out of step, because I knew what was out there. I knew the danger that everyone was in all the time and I had salt lines at the windows and doors every night and a flask of holy water in my pocket. But no one else did. They all thought I was weird and quirky and superstitious. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alone as I did that first year at Stanford. Jess helped and, God, I loved her so much, but she never really felt real either. How could she, when she didn’t know who I was? Not really. How could any of it have felt real, when all I really am is a hunter? I was… I was interviewing and applying to Law School and thinking of asking Jess to marry me, but they were all just surface plans. They were a costume or a mask that I was trying to wear and failing. When I really let myself think about what I saw myself doing in a year? Five? Ten? It was hunting. I was always with you. I imagined coming to find you and us hunting together. But… I was ashamed of that, because I’d destroyed the balance of our family and I figured you’d never want to see me again anyway. There was no way it could just slide that easily into place. So I ignored it, repressed it, and tried to be what I used to think I wanted. Tried to want it again. I wasn’t willing to stop lying to myself until you made that deal and I realized what I was losing. I could never look back because that kind of life was never going to be enough… Dean, I…” Sam shut his eyes, the confession pressing against his teeth as he tried to shove it back down, tried to swallow the urge to show his brother just how sick, how twisted he really was. That last secret wanted to be told.

 

Dean sat in the dirt across from him, not raising his eyes from the ground and doing nothing to stop his tears.

 

“Tonight seems to be the night for confessions and you’re going to leave me shut up at Bobby’s anyway. I might as well ensure that when you walk out the door, you don’t walk back through it again. At least that way I’ll know.” Dean jerked and looked up at him, the fear back lurking behind his eyes. “Dean… I honestly don’t know how to function…to _be_ at all…without you. And yeah, I sound like every ‘unhealthy relationship’ stereotype out there. We’re radically codependent… Or at least, I’m radically dependent on you. I don’t know what that feels like for you, but… Fuck… I’m just… Dean, I’m sick. Warped. Twisted. I have been since the summer after I turned eighteen. And I…” He trailed off, not knowing how to form the words. He realized that his ramblings probably meant very little to Dean.

 

“Sam… What are you taking about?” Dean’s voice was a thick croak.

 

“I’m…” He just need it to be out there. To be done and over. Sam’s voice dropped to a whisper like maybe if he didn’t say it too loudly it wouldn’t shatter his whole world. He thought wildly for a moment that if he could just manage to make himself shut up he could convince Dean he was joking and they would be fine again. “I’m in love with you, Dean. I don’t just love you. I’m _in love_ with you and I’ve wanted to fuck you since before I left for Stanford.”

 

Dean was staring at him. The tears had stopped and his eyes were wide and a little bloodshot and greener than Sam had ever seen them. As the silence continued, Sam felt his entire life crashing down on him. He wondered if that made him melodramatic. He figured that admitting you want to have hot gay, incestuous sex with your brother not an hour after telling him that you’re addicted to drinking demon blood definitely justified melodrama.

 

He closed his eyes to block out Dean’s face. When he got over the shock, the disgust and horror that Sam would see there was more than he wanted to deal with at the moment. More than he could. He tried to block out everything: the sound of Dean’s breathing, his own, the sound of his heart beating frantically in his chest, the night sounds around them, everything.

 

As Dean watched, stunned into immobility by Sam’s confession, Sam seemed to shut down completely. His eyes closed, his head dropped onto his raised knees, and his arms wrapped around himself tightly. After that, he went completely and utterly still. Dean couldn’t even see if he was breathing. “Sam?”

 

Calling his name did nothing. Dean sat and watched him for several minutes, trying to process the fact that his little brother was in love with him. Something warm and syrupy was spreading through his chest, but close on its heels were disgust with himself and shame that he’d somehow been responsible for this. It couldn’t have started before Stanford; it had to have been some sort of weird response the lust that flared in him every time he’d looked at Sammy since they stared hunting together. It wasn’t the confession of love that bothered him. He’d been in love with Sam his whole life. At least, that was the closest he could come to describing it. When he was younger, he asked others, in the towns they passed through, what they felt for their siblings, what they’d do or sacrifice for them. Nothing had ever even come close to touching what he’d do for Sam. When he’d gotten older, he asked about what other’s would do for a lover or maybe a soulmate. Those answers had come closer. Still, he’d do anything for Sam. He’d always known that. But the lust…that hadn’t started until they were back on the road together. They’d been living in each other’s pockets and he’d blamed their constant proximity on his own preoccupation with Sam’s naked chest when he left the bathroom after a shower. Or that strip of skin that appeared whenever he raised his arms too high and the fact that he seriously considered what it might taste like if he ran his tongue over his brother’s nipples.

 

But that was all him. He was the sick one. The twisted fucker who wanted his baby brother’s cock up his ass. Not Sam. Sam wanted normal…So then…

 

“Sammy.” He pulled Sam’s arms away from his knees and reached to tilt Sam’s chin up. “Sammy!” He repeated sharply and Sam’s eyes snapped open at the tone. “What do you mean before Stanford?”

 

Sam flinched. He smiled, jagged and bitter. “The summer before…Remember we spent a couple weeks at that cabin by the lake? The one with the pretty redheaded co-ed next door?”

 

Dean frowned for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah…”

 

“I caught you. The two of you, up in the woods behind the cabins. I went up there to read, but you and she were…fucking on a blanket in the clearing. I couldn’t…god, I couldn’t look away. I was harder than I’d ever been and it had barely taken a moment. I just stood there and watched the way your muscles shifted and slid under your skin when you moved. It was… When you…finished…your face and the noises you made…I came in my pants like I’d just hit puberty… I stumbled halfway down the path before I threw up in the bushes. I thought…I hoped that it was a one-time thing, the lust. That… I don’t even know…But it wasn’t. I could barely look at you. Jesus, your mouth…It was good I went away to Stanford, because if I hadn’t, I might have jumped you out on a hunt. Jess… she soothed the hurt. Because it hurts. Like broken glass in my gut. That I couldn’t control myself and I’d managed to poison us. _We’re brothers_ and I was such a sick fuck that I…I’m sorry. Dean, I’m so sorry, but I can’t help it. I realized just after Jess died that it wasn’t just some unnatural lust that I could compartmentalize, something that I could keep separate from the love I had for you. Somewhere I long the line, they blurred and I can’t seem to untangle them. Although, after…” He swallowed thickly. “After hell, I suspected that there never was any difference. I just…I’ve always loved you too much, Dean. Way more than what normal siblings feel for each other. More even than the majority of couples that I know love each other.”

 

Dean felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “It’s…it’s not… _Jesus_...” His voice was barely audible.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam choked and dropped his head back to his knees, hiding his face. Dean couldn’t speak, couldn’t figure out how to fix this. Should he tell Sam? Tell him that he wasn’t alone in this? Or should he just…try to comfort him? This wasn’t something that should happen. They were brothers. Could they get through, could they function properly around one another if they both knew how the other felt?

Something snapped behind Dean and he jerked around immediately. Ruby was standing at the edge of the clearing, frowning at them. Dean was on his feet with the dagger in his hand before she could blink. 

“You take one more step, bitch, and I’ll sink this dagger into your heart. Get it?” Dean snarled. He didn’t question how’d she known where they were (in the middle of nowhere…) or how she’d gotten there.

Ruby smirked at Dean and glanced down at the huddled shape of the younger Winchester. "Sam? Sam, stop him. You can't let him kill me. You need me!"

Sam didn’t so much as flinch. A curl of worry twisted in Dean’s chest, but he ignored it and snorted, rolling his eyes at the demon. "Yeah? Not so much. Sam...well, he thought it was time for a detox. Demon blood doesn't seem to agree with him so much."

Ruby stared at him for a moment before her eyes narrowed. "How else is he going to kill Lilith?" She demanded. "He's not strong enough yet. He needs more blood. He can be strong enough. He can destroy her. Sam! You can, but you need me!" She cursed under her breath. "This is why you didn't tell him in the first place, isn't it? This! His freakish need to control your every move like you're a child! And you let him! You always let him! He's never going to let you fuck him like you want him to, no matter how much you pander to him, Sam! So you should give up trying! It'll never be enough." 

Sam flinched visibly, obviously having heard her accusations. Dean didn’t wonder how she knew, but the twisting knot of worry loosened. At least Sam was aware. He raised an eyebrow at the hawk-sharp look in Ruby's eyes. "What? The lust? That's your game plan? That's how you're trying to break us apart? You think you're telling me something I don't already know?"

Ruby actually gaped this time. "You're telling me that you knew your baby brother wants to stick his cock up your ass and you still keep him around? It doesn't bother you at all? I do not believe that."

He met her eyes steadily and said nothing. She stared right back and Dean could feel her trying to get inside his head. After a moment, her eyes widened and she made a choked sort of laugh. "Fuck. You two are really that twisted. Why did anyone bother taking your soul in trade? You've both got a one-way ticket to hell anyway. Fuck..." She tipped an imaginary hat to Dean as Sam's head snapped up. "Dean Winchester. No wonder Alastair liked you so much. You're even more of a sick fuck than I thought you were: in love with your kid brother. Christ, it's not just that you want him to fuck you, to stick his dick so far up your ass that you tastes it on your tongue. It’s not just that you want to pound his tight little virgin so hard that he can feel it for days and everyone who sees him walk knows that you’ve been there...By the way, you can't pop that cherry. He's already been fucked. But it's not just that. You're in love with him. Roses and midnight walks on the beach and wedding bands, the whole shebang." She laughed and it sounded bitter and hysterical. 

Dean squared his shoulders, but didn't speak, didn’t dare look down at Sam. Several minutes passed. No one spoke, and Ruby tried to swallow back her hysterical laughter. She and Dean stared at one another. Neither noticed the topic of their conversation. Sam was shaking so hard that he felt like he was coming apart. Dean hadn't denied it. Emotions were tearing through Sam, crashing against each other like waves in a tumult. He inhaled harshly at the feeling of something breaking loose deep in his chest and he dropped to his knees, doubled over and gasping. Maybe the stress had actually done something physical to him? 

Dean spun, his attention completely focused on his brother. Sam opened his mouth, his throat working frantically, and a gush of blood spilled over his lips to pool on the dirt. It was deep red, almost black. Darker than any blood either Winchester had ever seen before.

Dean felt the entire world tilt. It was a dangerous amount of blood and the older Winchester could think of no earthly reason for its appearance. He was on his knees next to his brother before he realized he'd moved. When Sam looked up at him, he was crying and his eyes were yellow. Dean jerked back so fast, he overbalanced and fell. "Sam..." His voice was cracked, broken open. 

"I can…It’s…Not...my...blood...Dean." His voice was already ragged. He turned those yellow demon eyes over Dean's shoulder and they narrowed. Another gushed of blood poured from his mouth, his body heaving. One arm was clutched around his middle, the other held him off the dirt. Glaring up over Dean's shoulder with blood dripping from his chin, Dean thought he looked feral. More animal than human. "Stop. Ruby. Stop." 

The words echoed with something that Dean wasn't sure was entirely Sam. His gut went cold and the feeling spread out to his limbs quickly. When the meaning of his brother's command finally penetrated, Dean bristled. When he turned, Ruby had frozen behind him and was staring in absolute terror at Sam. The cold vanished under a hot rush of rage so strong Dean felt like he was choking with it. He wanted to get up and carve patterns into her skin with the dagger, but he stayed at Sam’s side. "You! You hellspawn bitch! This is your fault!" He spared a brief glance at Sam, who was heaving up blood again. "Why are his eyes yellow! I killed that evil sonva bitch!"

Ruby was shaking her head. "Yeah, you did. He's not Azazel, you moron. He's Azazel's heir. You're not seeing a demon. You're seeing hell burning in him." She shut her mouth abruptly and her gaze skittered like a scared rabbit, but she didn't move. 

Sam made a noise, almost a whimper, and Dean spun back. "Sammy, are you...what can I..."

Sam shook his head and more blood poured from his mouth. He swallowed thickly. "My eyes are burning, but it isn't mine. The blood. It's not mine. I can feel it filling my stomach, but it's not mine. I think..." He glanced at Ruby and tried to push himself to his feet, shaking off Dean’s hand. "I think it's Ruby's."

Dean was horrified. "Sam..." His little brother vomited more of the dark, viscous liquid. "How much blood did you drink?"

Sam blinked and then glowered at him with normal hazel eyes. Dean exhaled. "Dean, it's been months!" 

Sam climbed to his feet, stumbled, straightened, and walked shakily passed Dean, who stood. "Ruby," he blinked and his eyes were yellow again. "You will talk and we will listen. You will tell me the truth. If you don't...well remember that Dean was Alistair's protégée. He's very creative. So...talk. What the hell is going on?" The strange echo was back. 

Ruby's voice, when it came, was flat and mechanical and somehow still colored with terror. "You unlocked Azazel's power. Your body is rejecting my blood."

Sam narrowed his demon eyes at her and Dean shuddered. There was a moment of silence that seemed to last a decade. "You poisoned me. You've been lying to me since the beginning, haven't you? Do you even want me to kill Lilith?"

Ruby's voice turned fierce for a moment. "Yes!" Before it went flat again. "I have been lying to you. My blood doesn't make you more powerful. It boosts you for a couple hours, but it actually weakens you, because Azazel was so much more powerful than me and his blood is in your bones at this point. But you can't kill Lilith yet. It's not time. Too soon."

She clamped her mouth shut and clenched her jaw. Dean was frowning and Sam looked homicidally angry. Dean laid a hand on his brother's back and felt the constant tremors that wracked Sam's frame. As soon as the warmth of Dean's hand reached his little brother's skin through his shirts, Sam doubled over again to vomit another stomach-full of blood into the dirt. When he straightened, his eyes were still yellow. Dean swallowed against the bile rising in his own throat. 

"Explain!" The word flowed out over the clearing and washed back to crash on Ruby, so much of hell in it you could almost see the flames licking at her ankles. 

Ruby struggled, obviously trying and failing to overcome Sam's command. "Lilith must be the last death. She is the final seal. Only when she dies, can Lucifer walk the earth." Sam and Dean glanced at each other in horror. "Only the perfect vessel can kill her. You, Sammy, or-"

"Don't. Only Dean can call me that."

"Only you or Dean can kill Lilith. You are Lucifer's perfect vessel." She began to weep, silently and without seeming to realize it, and Dean watched in fascination. He'd never seen a demon cry before. "Dean is Michael's perfect vessel. Two brothers who love each other more than almost anything. One rebellious and headstrong, who loves his brother more than life. The other obedient, Daddy's perfect little soldier, who is strong enough to deny himself what he wants most in the world. Only one can kill the other. You are the perfect vessels, just like your Daddy made you to be."

"And if we don't kill Lilith. We don't break the seal and we leave Lucifer to rot, what happens then?"

Ruby's robot voice went frantic. "You must! You must! Lucifer is dying! The cage is killing him! He needs to prepare you! If you don't set him free, how can he prepare you to rule Hell and Earth in his stead? The Boy-King. You must free him!!!"

Dean turned to gape at his brother. "You destined to be the King of Hell?!?"

Sam flinched. "Not happening." He turned back to Ruby, yellow eyes narrowed. "Give her the knife."

"What? Sam, you-"

"Give her the knife, Dean." His tone brooked no argument. "Wipe it clean first, just in case."

He complied, using the materiel of his t-shirt and handed Ruby the knife, hilt first by habit. She grabbed it and tried to make a swipe for him. Sam growled. He literally fucking growled. Dean watched him through wide eyes. Ruby froze. 

Sam bared his teeth in a parody of a smile. "Ruby, stab yourself. Up and under the ribcage."

She seemed suddenly to realize who it was she was talking to, the extent of Sam’s power. She knelt quickly. "My lord! No, I was following Lilith's orders. I was-"

"Do. It. Now."

Dean stared at his baby brother as she complied, struggling not to. She flickered orange as the demon died and the body collapsed, like a puppet whose strings has been cut. 

"Jesus Christ, Sammy. You could have at least exorcized her and tried to sa-"

"Her host was dead very near to the moment Ruby entered it. She was a coma patient and they pulled the plug. I checked." 

Sam looked back at the knife in Ruby's gut. He narrowed his eyes and reached out to it. After a moment of nothing, the hilt began to glow. As Dean watched, the knife melted. The molten iron spread over Ruby's skin before cooling. 

"Fuck..." Dean exhaled slowly. 

"It can't be used anymore. It's useless now."

Dean shook his head. "Come on, we need to get out of here."

Sam took two deep breaths. "Give me a couple minutes." He offered his big brother a weak smile, before hunching over to vomit another stomach full of blood. Dean laid a hand on his back again, trying to sooth, and Sam gasped. More blood came up. "You make it come faster. When you touch me, I can feel it...faster.... Please....Dean"

"Jesus." Dean pushed down the wave of self-loathing, nausea and arousal at the images those words painted. Here Sam was, vomiting up that demon bitch's blood, eyes the color of Azazel's, probably in agony and he was thinking of sex. He groaned. 

Sam smiled at him thinly. "Mind out of-" another stomach full splattered over Ruby's cooling host. "The gutter, Dean. I know how that-" more blood. "sounded. It's slowing now...maybe we should go..." He vomited again. 

Dean raised an eyebrow. "We'll leave when you can go for more than a minute or two without making like a horror movie extra. Okay? You are not getting demon blood all over my baby."

Sam laughed and Dean smiled. It had been too long since his laugh had sounded so purely happy, not tinged with bitterness or fear. 

It took another ten minutes for Dean to be satisfied that Sam wasn't going to puke blood all over the front seat of the impala. He jammed a shallow bucket that had been full of empty shotgun shells into Sam's hand and bustled him into the passenger's seat. 

It took an hour on the road, with only two stops to empty the bucket, for Dean to relax enough to ask the question burning in his mind. "Sam?"

"Mm?"

"Your eyes...they're...they were..." Okay, so maybe he had relaxed enough, but he wasn't sure he had the courage to actually voice the words. It would make things too real. 

"They're yellow. Like Azazel's, aren't they?" 

Dean shook his head. "Not anymore...just when..." He waved a hand vaguely. "You know."

"Oh." Sam frowned, pushing his hair back out of his face. "Well, that's good. I didn't want...the power of hell to burn in my eyes forever. That would have sucked."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You could feel it?"

"Yes. Like my eyes were actually burning. Like...like something hot and angry was pushing on them from behind."

"Son of a bitch."

Sam laughed at Dean's tone, clearly relieved. "Well, now I'm even more of a freak, but I guess I'm not addicted to the blood. I think you...um...when she said...and you didn't...something snapped. I could feel it. I think it was whatever leash had been controlling Azazel's legacy."

Dean frowned. "When she said what?" He tried to remember any of what Ruby had said before Sam had started bringing up blood, but he blanked. He had a sickening feeling it was something that he never wanted Sam to know, but...

"When she said you were in love with me and you didn't deny it...I just...I don't know what happened, but I could feel it coming apart in my chest."

Dean swallowed a surge of panic and concentrated on the road. He left memories of the last couple hours wash over him and tried not to let the terror overwhelm him. It seemed like a lost cause until Sam's words, the broken whisper that had him on the ground rocking back and forth in sick panic, tickled at his mind.

"Sam?" He shot a brief, wary glance at his brother out of the corner of his eye. "Sam, earlier you...you said..."

"That I'm in love with you? Yeah. I did. I wasn't... That is…Dean, please tell me she wasn't lying. Dean..."

"God. Sam, no." There was a small chokes noise from the other side of the car, but Dean didn't turn. "No, Sam. She wasn't lying."

To hell with keeping the secret. They’d make it through somehow. Dean was almost grateful to the hellspawn, when he remember his earlier worries, for taking the whole matter out of his hands. He wasn’t going to lie to Sam. Not about something like this. They were in this together and they’d make it through.


	4. Chapter 4

There was complete silence in the car. Dean didn’t know how long it had been since he’d admitted to wanting his brother, to loving his brother in a way that he never should have…

Sam had not said a single thing. Bobby’s place wasn’t far from the motel they’d been staying at and they’d only had about half an hour to go when the silence began. It didn’t end until they arrived. Bobby was standing on the porch watching for them, when they pulled up. Dean got out first. 

“What took you boys so long? You were right behind me and I know you don’t drive like that, son.” Bobby look halfway between annoyance and concern.

Dean exhaled on an almost bitter laugh. “We don’t have to worry about Sam’s addiction anymore.”

Bobby’s eyes went wide and his gaze flicked to the passenger window. “Is he-“

“I’m fine, Bobby.” Sam’s voice was low and hoarse, when he opened the door and got out. He blinked once, opened his mouth, and vomited more blood into the gravel. 

Dean frowned. “It’s still coming?”

Sam nodded. The older Winchester chewed his lip for a minute before pulling off his shirts. He gestured for Sam to do the same. Sam went pale as the dead and stared at him. “You said contact makes the blood come up faster? Well, skin to skin contact will probably make it come up even faster. The sooner we get that shit out of you, the happier I’ll be. Take off your shirt.”

Sam shut his eyes for a brief moment, before complying. Bobby was staring at them with a wide-eyed, freaked-out expression. Dean snorted. “He’s vomiting up Ruby’s blood. All of it. As in, all of it. Everything he’d drunk since he started this whole crazy Kamikaze insanity.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.” Dean watched as Sam dropped his shirts onto the hood of the Impala. He frowned again for a moment. “Don’t move.” 

Sam stood frozen. Dean went up behind him and pressed his chest to Sam’s back, snaking his arms around and up to lay his palms flat over Sam’s collarbones. The effect was instantaneous. Sam was on his knees, vomiting continuously onto the gravel. He’d taken Dean with him and was supporting both their weight with his arms, tiny stones digging hard into his palms. Dean knelt behind him, awkwardly trying to keep his groin from pressing against his baby brother’s ass. He lay his face between Sam’s shoulder blades and stayed there. Sam basically held his mouth open and red-black blood poured out. His stomach clenched and fluttered against Dean’s elbows. Every minute or so, Dean would detached himself to give Sam time to take a couple gasping breaths. Sam didn’t shift his hands at all, even when the blood pool spread around them and then over them.

Bobby watched in fascinated horror. His boys were far too comfortable with being much closer than brothers should. The position they held should have looked awkward and more than a little odd, but with the Winchester boys? It looked completely natural. He sighed. He knew that John had not paid proper attention to how close the two had been growing up and he hadn’t been much better. They had always been too close, loved each other too much, depended on each other too much. He hadn’t wanted to take that away from them when they were basically all each other had. Bobby would have taken the boys in and raised them here at the junkyard, but John had refused his offer. He couldn’t bear to part with them after Mary died. Well, Bobby thought, it’s far too late for that now. He wasn’t in the least bit surprised that this was the turn their relationship had taken. He wasn’t going to blame them for it, when it was certainly not their fault (his fault…his and John’s, his mind whispered guiltily) and he wasn’t going to condemn them for it. With the lives they all lived? They could die at any moment and he wasn’t going to take away what happiness they managed to scrap together, even if it was…that.

They all remained where they were for five or six minutes, until the blood pouring out of Sam’s mouth abruptly stopped. He gasped for a moment before going boneless. It was only Dean’s sharp reflexes that prevented Sam from taking a nosedive into the disturbingly large pool of viscous fluid. Dean heaved his baby brother back and the two collapsed against the nearest of the Impala’s tires. Sam was cradled in the V of Dean’s legs and Dean’s arms were still around his brother. Bobby rolled his eyes. Either the boys were so comfortable with him that they didn’t care how this looked or they really were that stupid. He’d like to think it was the former, but suspected strongly the latter.

He came down off the steps. “Come on, you idjits. Let’s get you inside. Sam needs to get cleaned up. Do not get demon blood on my furniture, boy.”

Sam chuckled weakly, but didn’t move. Dean looked up at him. “Little help, Bobby?”

It occurred to Bobby that it wasn’t either reason he’d thought. Sam was literally too weak to move. Bobby frowned. Maybe it wasn’t…He glanced again at Dean’s hands pressed into his brother’s bare skin. No. It was, but they probably would’ve moved quickly out of this position if Sam could move. So maybe they weren’t quite that stupid. He took one of Sam’s arms and helped Dean heave his hundred foot tall brother up. They managed to drag Sam into the house before he regained enough energy to get his feet under him. Bobby moved away and let Dean handle him. “Thanks, Bobby.” Sam’s voice was even hoarser than it was when he’d first spoke. It sounded painful.

“’Course, son. Dean, go get your brother cleaned up. I’ll grab your bags from the car. Then we’re going to have a little talk.”

Both boys flinched and Bobby chuckled, glad he could still garner that reaction from them.

Dean all but dragged Sam upstairs. He pushed open the door to the spare bedroom with his foot. There was a private bathroom attached that they usually shared. Sam was able to walk well enough to make it to the bathroom, but with the rate he was going, if Dean let him shower by himself, he’d be dead on the floor, having passed out and drowned himself. “Come on, Sasquatch, time to wash the blood off.”

Sam jerked away from Dean and stood on his own, still looking about to collapse. “What? No. I can…I can do it myself.”

Dean narrowed his eyes and his voice was bitter when he spoke. “No, you can’t. You’ll pass out and hit your head and drowned in the shower, if I let you do that. What? Worried for your maidenly virtue? I’m not going to—“

“Dean…” Sam’s voice was low. “What part of ‘I want to fuck you into the floor’ did you not get? Why do you think I change in the bathroom 9 times out of 10? I don’t trust myself around you…”

Well, that was unexpected. “Oh.”

Sam scowled. “Yeah, oh.”

“Well, that’s perfect. Come on. I’m helping you wash so you don’t die.”

Sam gaped. “But I… You…Dean!”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Now is not the time for this conversation. Bobby will be coming up with your bag at any minute and you are partially covered in blood. I’m helping you. End of discussion.”

Sam sighed and the fight went out of him. He swayed a little on his feet, but stumbled into the bathroom. The fact that he was already only wearing his jeans and shoes made things much easier. Dean stripped him to his boxers and then did the same to himself, before turning the water up as hot as Sam could stand. Once the temperature was decent, he pulled Sam to his feet and shoved him under the spray. Sam moaned a little at the feel of the water.

“God…that’s perfect. My stomach has been cramping for the last fifteen minutes, at least.” He muttered, leaning against the back of the shower and letting the water pound over his chest. Dean stood staring at him for a couple minutes, trying to engrave the image into his brain. He swallowed thickly and stepped into the small amount of empty space left in the stall.

Sam inhaled sharply, but didn’t protest. Just shut his eyes and sagged against the wall. Dean set about washing away the visible blood from Sam’s face, hands, and chest. He let his gaze run over his brother twice before noticing that Sam had somehow managed to get blood on both of his shins. Dean took two deep breaths, glanced up at Sam through his eyelashes to find that Sam’s eyes were still shut, and dropped to his knees as well as he could.

Sam’s eyes snapped open and he stared down at his brother in complete shock. “Dean…?” He choked out.

Dean gestured to the blood on Sam’s legs, but could not fail to notice the response his position was causing. He watched Sam’s cock harden behind that thin cotton of his boxers for a moment before grinning wickedly. Fuck it all. I want him and he wants me and fuck everyone else. I’ve already been to Hell and he’s meant to be its King, Dean though viciously and reached up with trembling hands to pull down the wet boxers. Not that the materiel hid anything anyway. The pale grey plaid was soaked through, outlining exactly what was not so hidden beneath. Dean licked his lips and made his eyes follow the wet cotton down Sam’s legs to where it sat around his ankles. A moment passed before he could muster up enough courage to look up at his little brother’s incredibly-not-even-at-all-little erection. “Christ.” He whispered, staring at the swollen head as it bobbed in front of his nose. Sam was hung like a horse. “Life is so not fair.”

Sam frowned. “What?” He managed to force the word out passed his dry tongue. 

Dean glanced up at him. “I’m supposed to be the big brother, but you have four inches of height on me and now this? That’s just not fair, man.” He waved vaguely at Sam’s cock.

Sam gaped at him a moment, before laughing. It sounded just a little hysterical. Dean shrugged and wrapped a hand around the base of his brother’s erection, effectively cutting off the laughter. He held Sam’s cock still with one hand and his hips still with the other. He licked his lips and swallowed some of the saliva that had pooled in his mouth. He’d given head before, but he’d never wanted to taste someone so badly in his entire life. 

“Ready, Sammy?” He murmured, pressing his cheek to Sam’s hipbone and glancing up. His eyes met Sam’s and he smiled. 

Sam was panting a little, but he nodded. “Are you sure, Dean?”

Dean smirked and stretched his lips around the head of his brother’s cock. Sam’s broken little whimper was worth anything it took to drag that noise out of him again. Dean hollowed out his cheeks and swallowed Sam as far down his throat as he could. Sam was too long, though, and he couldn’t manage it all. He wrapped his hand around the couple inches of skin that he couldn’t swallow and hummed. 

An infinity later, which probably didn’t last more than a dozen or so minutes, and Sam’s hands in his hair, pulling his head away, surprised him enough that he left himself be moved. He’d wanted to swallow it. He’s wanted to taste Sam so badly. Instead, he shut his eyes, left his mouth open, and tilted his face. “Come on, Sammy. Take the money shot.”

Sam groaned very softly, aware even in his haze of pleasure, exactly where they were and who might hear. He looked down at Dean’s upturned face, his lips swollen from his cock, and let go. He watched strips of his own pearly white semen paint Dean’s cheeks and across his nose. Dean’s tongue flicked out to catch some of it.

The older Winchester moaned softly at the taste of his brother on his tongue. It was wrong, so incredibly twistedly wrong, but god Sam tasted perfect. Dean reached up and rubbed some of the white fluid into his skin and Sam felt it down to his toes. Dean looked like he was trying to mark himself with Sam. A mark of ownership. Sam had to close his eyes against the sight or his overly sensitive dick was going to try and harden again. This was so far from what he had excepted of this evening that Sam smiled weakly.

Dean opened his eyes and grinned at the sight that Sam made. He brushed the semen off with his fingers and then licked them clean. When he looked up again, Sam had opened his eyes and was watching. “Jesus, Dean. The things I want to do to you.”

Dean bit his lip to keep from moaning and fell back against the other wall of the shower, hand going to his dick. “Tell me.”

Sam inhaled deeply, staring. “God…you look so hot, my come all over your face, your cock hard and pulsing for me. I want to take you apart. Turn you over and open your ass cheeks. Expose that little pink hole. I want to lick it, taste you. See if you taste as good as I think you do. Open you up with my tongue and fingers until you’re gaping wide, until you feel so empty that you want to cry, that you’ll beg for it. Then I’ll fill you up. Full as you can go. Maybe you’ll even take it all. You’d be the first who could, regardless of gender. I want to brush your sweet spot with every stroke, take you hard and slow. So slow. Make it last for hours, until you can’t talk or moan or even whimper because you’re so desperate for release. I want you to feel me in you for days. I want you not to be able to walk for the delicious burn I’ll leave behind. I want to wrap my arms around you and never even let you go.”

Dean pressed his fist hard to his mouth and shot all over his hand and his belly. “Please.” It was so soft Sam would have thought he’d imagined it, if not for the look in Dean’s eyes. 

“What?”

Dean swallowed and stood to turn, washing away the remnants of his pleasure. “Please…I… I want you to do all of that to me. I want to do that to you.”

“Dean…”

“Sam, I know this is…well, I know that everyone would hate us for this. Hell, we should probably hate us for this, but…I just… I can’t live without you and ever since you came back from Stanford, I can’t seem to take my eyes off you either. Maybe this is because of how we grew up. Maybe I was born hardwired this way. I don’t know, but… we’ve never had a merely brotherly relationship. Sam… we’re basically fucking Romeo and Juliet, only neither of us can seem to stay dead. I can’t live without you, man. I…Honestly? Fuck everyone else. We want this? You really want this? Me?”

Sam choked. “I should have thought that was obvious. Yeah, I really fucking do.”

“Then, fine. We get to have this. The apocalypse is coming. The world might end. We could get ganked by a demon tomorrow. So fuck it. We get to have this.”

Sam smiled. It was small and broken and something like joy was seeping out around the jagged edges and it was the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen. Dean couldn’t bare it, so he leaned across the shower’s spray and kissed it away.


End file.
